


explain the inexplicable

by YouarethereasonIwrite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Poetic, Russian Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouarethereasonIwrite/pseuds/YouarethereasonIwrite
Summary: Viktor discovers Yuuri on a bright autumn day. "To kill the immortal, you have to rid of his soul. It’s tied to a needle, which is in an egg, buried in a duck, swallowed up by a hare, hidden in an iron chest of crystal or gold, deep under a green oak tree, on the island of Buyan.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the longest one shots ive ever done in my life it's like 30 pages rip
> 
> Uh this fanfic is unbeta'd sorry and idk how to do characterizatION IM SO SORRY I also tried making it like super poetic but i kind of lost motivation at the very end lol and the angst isn't even that good whoops
> 
> idk about the Russian either like ???? I hope it's okay im sorry i used like Moscow Times and google translate... and then wikipedia for information on Koschei which is an interesting Slavic myth :000
> 
> luchik: sunbeam or ray of light
> 
> sakharok: sugar 
> 
> Terpeniye: patience
> 
> rebenok: child
> 
> suka: bitch
> 
> zaichonok: bunny (but in a cute and cuddly way)
> 
> der'mo: shit
> 
> myod: Russian for mead (the alcoholic beverage made from fermented honey and water)

 

 

 

He’s wearing the ugliest sweater Viktor’s ever seen when Viktor first notices him, notices the thin lips pulled back in a slight grimace and dark eyed concentration on the ripped, dog eared pages before him. The sweater is an ugly, piss stained carpet thing, with dancing camels (yes, _camels_ ) patterned on the slope of his belly and symbols only seen on horrendous Christmas sweaters.

Ripped jeans sprawl past his ankles to hide black running shoes and a pair of nerdy red fox socks Viktor caught a glimpse of when the other male rolls his pants back to retie the worn down shoelaces. In his hand, a copy of _Fahrenheit 451_ \--a fine example of American novelization, Viktor thinks--is threadbare and tattered like the rest of his stereotypical “nerd” attire.

Yet Viktor thinks he’s the most beautiful person he’s encountered in his life.

He listens intently, closely, pretending to be drawn to his own world crammed into a tiny phone screen whenever the other man is around. His snooping pays off for he finally learns the intriguing man’s name--the one with mismatched socks, ugly sweaters (where did he manage to _find_ a sweater with baby heads on it?), and an unadulterated quietness that shadows him like a mysterious forest.

 _Yuuri Katsuki_. His name is Yuuri Katsuki and he’s so beautifully intangible that Viktor has already fallen for him. He’s already enamored with the concept of holding hands, enriching himself in surely the meek, red cheeked face of his future lover, sweet like a liaison with an enticing belle-dame.

Viktor, for the most part, is proud of himself for ignoring the other women and men and people in between who throw themselves at his feet. He’s arrogantly aware of the salacious effect he ensnares the masses with, yet he remains poignantly uninterested _in_ the interested. He likes to be “untouchable”, a fleeting wisp of a far-off dream people lose in the chaotic midst of growing up.

So it’s no wonder how Viktor is utterly enraptured with Yuuri. The man gives off a mystifying vibe, something so inexplicable and _wonderfully_ unknown that Viktor desires nothing more than to rip off Yuuri’s facade in his own nimble fingers. He wishes to cup the liquid gold of Yuuri’s heart in the palm of his hand, to cradle innocence before its inevitable destruction.

And while Viktor forlornly stares outside the window, watching the crisp autumn leaves gently sway down with the dancing wind, he strategizes. He conjures intricate schemes like a spider crafting its web. The silver haired man reminds himself to be patient; he reminds himself of how absolutely satisfying Yuuri will taste when he finally realizes he’s trapped in Viktor’s web.

He speaks of no ill intent in front of others--it’s not difficult to _act_ in front of mindless swarms who only see what they wish to see instead of using critical thinking to see reality. Viktor suppresses his desire for a week, feeding his greed and ambition with strung out images of a defiled Yuuri lying pliant underneath him with red dotting his snow pale form.

Unfortunately, he’s not as inconspicuous as he hopes, for his old friend Yuri Plisetsky corners him in the hallway before Viktor’s mundane Biology class with a prominent scowl carved onto his delicate features. It’s a shame, really. If Yuri so desired, he could easily become an attractive honey-baited wonder, second to Viktor’s lavish charms.

“You need to stop eye-fucking book boy over there.” Yuri crassly remarks, jutting out his chin like the world is his personal challenge. He jabs a painted thumb over to Yuuri, who’s currently sitting in the same class Viktor has with an air of (almost) elegance befalling his prone form. Viktor hungrily watches Yuuri idly flick a page with a delicacy saved only for treasures, and absentmindedly imagines the other’s emotionless face speckled with crimson emotion.

“Are you fucking listening, Viktor?” Yuri demands, dragging Viktor from his inappropriate delusions. Viktor grins cheerily, which only serves to elicit a sardonic frown from his companion.

“I’m listening, I’m listening,” he reassures, but his eyes are already flickering back to raven haired Yuuri, who’s trained forest eyes are suddenly meeting another girl’s. Viktor’s grin is harshly slapped from his face. He’s emotionless and calculating at this point; the only thing on his mind is a fierce over protectiveness of _his_ prey. He refrains from barging into the classroom with a snarl to frighten the wench. He holds himself back from locking Yuuri up in a stone tower, where beautiful princesses lay in slumber for their princes.

“You sure as fuck aren’t!” Yuri snaps. The light blond slaps the back of his hand on Viktor’s arm. Viktor whines.

“That hurt, Yuri!” His bottom lip juts out dramatically, but Yuri is so attuned to Viktor’s playful nature that he knows better. Instead, Yuri narrows his eyes with an obvious disgusted grimace playing on his lips. Viktor would be more offended, if he wasn’t already drawn back to the crack of a smile on Yuuri’s face, of the softening of coffee orbs locked solely on the caramel haired girl. Viktor _seethes_.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you care about your image right?” Yuri looks about five seconds away from beating the shit out of a distracted Viktor. Viktor manages a carefree smile in return.

“You make me sound like some uncaring, egotistical bastard, Yuri.”

“That’s ‘cause you are.” Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Ouch. If I didn’t know you any better, I would be more offended, Yuri. I might even cry.” To prove his point, Viktor springs crocodile tears that match the inner wickedness of his soul. Yuri’s torn between showing revulsion or annoyance, so he settles for a half grimace that scrunches up his pretty face.

“Not by choice. If I could, I would leave your nasty ass behind in the dust.”

“Oh, but you can, Yuri. No one is stopping you.” And it’s the cold, hard truth. People like Yuri amuse Viktor the most, with their thorny insults hurled at others to mask their true character. Even now, as Yuri abruptly snaps his mouth shut and shoots Viktor a venomous glare, the taller male is completely entertained. He expects nothing less from his prickly “friend”.

“That kind of fake attitude is why you don’t have a lot of friends.” Yuri snaps, and he brashly continues before Viktor can protest, “I mean _real_ friends.”

“Hmm.” Viktor hums, an immensely pleased expression on his face as he accommodates Yuuri’s normal form in sky blue eyes, “I’m working on that.” Yuri makes a noise of comprehension.

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t hurt the guy too much. He seems like the really emotional type once you get to know him.” They’re awful people, Viktor muses. But Viktor is the worse perpetrator as he fixes Yuri with a devious wink and a complementing wicked grin.

“Ironic,” the blond scoffs, “that people can be deceived by a fictional myth like _Koschei_ nowadays.” The name warps on his tongue, sour as spoiled milk. He clicks his tongue when Viktor continues to grimly smile at him; death is near, Yuri thinks, for the vile upturn of Viktor’s crooked lips only spell trouble and future heartbreak.

“Yes, but he is also invincible, is he not?” Viktor rhetorically inquires; he already knows the answer, but his taunting brightens his dull day.

Yuri scoffs again. “I guess, but only if you don’t find an _Ivan_.”

Viktor’s smile is tight, almost fraying at the seams.

“It’s a good thing no one in this country knows of _Buyan_ , then.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Viktor finally faces a skeptical Yuuri Katsuki, who’s as oddly fascinating as the day Viktor first laid eyes on him. The Russian hopes Yuuri is unlike the other glasses clad, intellectual beauties he’s known--they’re too easy, effortlessly swayed by Viktor’s charisma and model worthy looks. One sugary smile and they fell like the rest of the pawns. It’s all a chess game to him, after all.

“You dropped this, _sakharok_.” Viktor smoothly calls out to Yuuri’s back. Yuuri pauses in his step. The raven haired male surveys the area for any other bodies the other male could have spoken to, but finds no one else in the vicinity. He turns on his toe, with a silent grace only found in polished dancers, of figure skaters and gymnasts trained in the Olympics.

Viktor inwardly smiles in victory. Yuuri is facing him directly now, and the tenderness of his round face pumps the blood through his veins from Viktor’s racing heart. The taller man smiles sweetly, dripping of honey and melting cake frosting. He reminds himself to lay the accent on thick--his suitors and admirers always fawned over his Russian accent, despite it being light from years of living away from his home country.

“You dropped your pencil,” he indicates to the object in between his fingers, held out like a lover’s thorny gift. Yuuri’s eyes dip down to stare at the sharpened black pencil. He holds a small staring contest with it before his eyes rise up once more as would tidal waves wash upon a rugged cliff. Viktor is _fascinated_.

“Thank you.” It’s the first time he’s heard such a sweet voice, laden with hot potential and dripping in chocolate fondue. His voice is just as Viktor imagined, and the satisfaction welling in his throat swirls down to the expanse of his heated, hungry stomach.

“It’s no problem, _sakharok_.” The scent of spiced tea and dusty books wafts into Viktor’s nose. From their close proximity, it’s all too easy to pluck Yuuri away from the crowd. A phantom like man such as the raven haired man would not be missed, he delightful muses, but Viktor banishes the all too tempting thought with a flourish of his hand.

He tastes Yuuri’s scent on his tongue, drinks it all in like the finest wine. It tastes incredible. When their fingers touch, Viktor confidently surges forward until they are a breath away. Yuuri’s hold on the pencil is strong, but Viktor has patiently endured before and he will do it again. The fizzle of heat between their fingers burns something intoxicating down Viktor’s throat until Yuuri wrenches away, and the cold fall breeze washes Yuuri’s presence into the drain.

But it’s not all for naught. For the enticing rose hue on the usually pale man’s face is a gift to Viktor; it’s surely a sign that his presence isn’t completely unwanted from this stoic man. Yuuri blushes, faintly mutters a polite goodbye, and escapes with his head ducked down into his books.

A miniscule crooked grin surfaces onto Viktor’s face. The taste of sweet victory and sweet, sweet spiced tea flavors his tongue, and the Russian instantly knows he’s beyond besotted. He’s inebriated, blindly hopeful, yet fiercely competitive with how things are unfurling.

 _Game on,_ his mind whispers, and Viktor relishes the gust of strong autumn wind on his blazing cheeks.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Incidents continue in Viktor’s favor. He also may or may not have searched up Yuuri’s schedule from a close-by friend (turns out the caramel haired girl is already dating someone and she’s more than happy to carelessly share her friend Yuuri’s information), but those minor details were easily brushed under the rug. In the end, the silver haired male ended up secretly following the news of Yuuri, whose presence is not as unprecedented as Viktor previously assumed.

He casually saddles up next to Yuuri when the other man is checking out a library book, and once Viktor even accidentally (he _swore_ it was fate) met with Yuuri in the bathroom while he washed his hands. These events happened quickly, and Viktor liked to think Yuuri was slowly warming up to him.

“Yuuri!” His call brings attention from all sorts of people, crowds of randomly grouped college students swinging their heads over to his familiarly haunting voice. Whispers arise from their throats, but Viktor pays them no mind. He’s too preoccupied with eyeing Yuuri up and down, a huge grin enveloping his face.

Yuuri nods evenly and, to Viktor’s pleasure, begins paving his way through the crunchy autumn leaves and dying grass over to Viktor’s spot in the middle of the campus ground. Viktor casually rises up from his warmed seat on the stony bench. His body is attuned to Yuuri’s falling warmth, and he seeks it out like a missile. Once Yuuri is close enough, Viktor snatches the boy up all to himself.

“It’s wonderful to see you, _luchik_.” Viktor engulfs the shorter male within his arms as if shielding Yuuri from the rest of the world and greedily absorbing the ravishing man’s addictive heat. In those moments when their bodies are pressed together, Viktor experiences true euphoria; he’s drowning in the perfect melding of their forms.

“Ah,” Yuuri still stiffens, but it’s nothing but endearing to Viktor. Gradually, however, Yuuri started to accept the intimate touches between the two. “Viktor…” Even the way he softly uttered his name delighted Viktor to his very core. His insides quaked like the leaves on the trees, but he restrained his inner desires from leaking out.

“How are you, Yuuri?” Viktor reluctantly separates himself from the other. A flash of heady, stunning disappointment flickers like stars in Yuuri’s dark eyes, effectively spiking up Viktor’s strong longing. Yuuri masks his true emotions once more; Viktor would be a mere fool if he could not read past the other’s facade.

“I’m fine,” a small stumble of his words intrigues Viktor, “h-how about you?” A smear of scarlet high on Yuuri’s cheekbones confirm the tiny stutter, and Viktor reaches deep within the other to grasp onto the solid truth. _Patience, Viktor… Terpeniye…_ He gasps at himself.

“I’m _magnificent_ ,” he beams. “Thank you, _zaichonok_.” Yuuri positively _melts_ under the pet names dancing on Viktor’s tongue. The long eyelashes layered thickly on the Japanese man’s eyes flutter down in a playful dance, alluring to Viktor like a silver butterfly’s dappled wing skimming on the surface of a calm, blue lake. Yuuri’s eyelids shyly close, and-- _oh…_ **_Oh_**. Viktor is conflicted on whether or not to yell out in triumph or romantically dip Yuuri down into a soft kiss.

He’s convinced Yuuri’s lips will taste diviner than any dessert in the world and will dissolve into his mouth like sugary candy. Viktor is brimming with uncontained mirth, and he edges closer and closer until he can count the pale snowflakes dotted on Yuuri’s skin and thaw the frigidly, timid man into a flaming sensation.

“ _Viktor!_ ” Viktor grimaces. He halts in his movements to catch the butterfly flapping its elegant wings an inch away from the invisible web. The spell is smashed to the ground, leaving a cold Viktor and an embarrassed Yuuri, who suddenly realizes the attention drawn on them and the harsh sunlight cascading down his soft body.

“I’m sorry!” He squeaks out as if it was all _his_ fault. Something acid ignites in Viktor’s throat like a bomb, and he dryly swallows the grenade of guilt worming its way into his stomach. Viktor smiles sweetly to Yuuri with the windows of his soul tightly clenched to keep in all his secrets.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweet Yuuri.” He reassures. The words are brittle, and even Yuuri shoots him a skeptical, anxious look.

“I-I,” he bites his curvy peach lips with his upper teeth and Viktor can only watch, entranced with twitching fingers, “I have to go!” Yuuri yanks out of Viktor’s arms once more and collectively speed walks out of the area, out of Yuuri’s life. His shadow is the last thing that escapes the silver haired man, and his eyes follow the black, stretched out figure until it too disappears with its owner. He sighs.

“Yuri!” He turns to his Russian counterpart with an irritated grin. “What did you _need_ ?” Which basically translated to, _“You cock-blocked me at a crucial time so this better be important!_ ”

Yuri had the audacity to appear nonchalant: arms tucked to his side, hands in his jean pockets, stance laid back with mellow shoulders, and eyes diverted to the side. If Viktor didn’t currently stand in the middle of a highly populated area, he would have throttled the younger male and ensured the other could not escape while he gave Yuri a big noogie.

“Nothing too important.” He sounded all too smug in interrupting Viktor’s time, and it took all of Viktor’s willpower to--at the very least--not rub his temples in frustration. Instead, the taller male slowly sat back down in his original seat which was now cold from disuse. His butt stung from the icy temperature of the seat while Viktor sipped at his equally freezing coffee that tasted like frozen sewer water.

Yuri’s voice sliced through the frosty air, annoyingly clear and oddly wistful. “You need to stop doing this, Viktor.” Viktor hummed, disregarding the statement and the other male who plopped down in the seat across from him. Yuri hissed out a string of Russian curse words from the frozen bench, but still, Viktor did not meet his eye.

“I... know.” Viktor said, but his voice lay barren like the incoming winterland. Everything would be dead by then, and Viktor would desire hot baths, spicy drinks, and heavy duvets to combat the raging tundra in his own body. Yuri shot him a pitying grimace, one which was largely unappreciated by Viktor. Even as flawless and _perfect_ as he seemed, Viktor remained more bitter than a black coffee brewed in Brazil.

“Yet you continue down this path.” Yuri retorted. There was always a thick layer of sarcasm and mockery in Yuri’s words; Viktor _knew_ that. Yet, midnight streaks of frustration dotted Yuri’s ice eyes and loosened up his harsh tongue.

“You wouldn’t understand, _rebenok_.” Viktor nearly spits and Yuri snaps his head forward with peaking rage.

“Say that again, _suka_.” The younger snarls. He’s still a kitten in Viktor’s eyes, so the lonely man waves off Yuri’s anger like swatting off a persistent fly, and returns to sipping the disgusting swirl of coffee. Yuri snaps up as one would step on a twig, and raises his hackles as a tiger would. He’s snarling lowly, a deep contrast to the throaty screeching of insults he’s chucked at Viktor before.

“Don’t be such an asshole, Viktor.” Yuri finally says, but it’s quiet and meek and everything Viktor’s _not used_ to, so he sits back and watches with stunned eyes. Viktor attempts to analyze this new Yuri--who’s not like the entertaining, riled up firecracker he’s _always_ been--but he can’t produce any successful results.

“Yuri--” The blond shakes his head. He’s bitterly and stubbornly glaring at the ground with icicles of raindrops frozen in his icy eyes. Yet, despite his cold, indifferent personality, Yuri is still warmer than Viktor will ever hope to be, and he’s still more compassionate and understanding than many give him credit for. Viktor’s mouth sets in a grim line as Yuri cautiously steps back, a little shy pace of his foot that speaks louder than words.

“Do you remember our promise?” _Promise_? Viktor curiously asks himself. He wracks his brain for any suggestion, but comes up with blanks each time. It’s a blanket of snowy confusion that covers up his muddy thoughts; his face must have been obvious for Yuri suddenly laughs. It’s not loud and booming like Viktor expects. It’s a tinkling of overused bells, of harsh hacking from an avid smoker.

“You don’t remember.” Yuri says bitingly. He’s not crying, but laughing, and Viktor doesn’t know what’s worse. “Of course you don’t. I should have figured.” Another step back. Yuri is only a few meters away from Viktor, but he feels like the shorter man’s miles away. It’s still reachable, he desperately hopes;  _it’s still fixable._

“What promise?” Viktor inquires. Frankly enough, he’s exhausted from life’s games and tired of the new one Yuri’s created. He refuses to be spun around in confusing circles with Yuri’s tentative words, slyly worded to pull out the worst in Viktor. The silver haired male frowns, but Yuri doesn’t budge. Yuri is the lighthouse in choppy, murderous waves or a looming forest tree in the midst of a thundering storm. He’s bright and pure, cold yet hot.

“Forget it.” Yuri spits out like a bad taste in his mouth. His nose crinkles as one would do when smelling something pungent, and he’s already turning his back on Viktor. Viktor doesn’t plead for him to stay. Yuri doesn’t look back.

“Just forget it…” His whisper fades with the autumn leaves, seeps into Viktor’s chilled bones to stay for the daunting winter. Viktor does not look for Yuri’s shadow after that.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 _One, two, three… One, two three…_ Viktor grits his teeth as he skates, arms moving erratically with his slender build and feet spastically carving agitated lines into the smooth groove of the ice rink. He performs a solid flip in the air, landing a flawless execution of a quadruple salchow jump only viewed on television.

The blue eyed man thrusts his arms up in time to the music of his soul; he drags his feet with him like it’s a pesky extension to his body instead of an elegant, attached appendage. Viktor splays his arms out as he tattoos circles into the rink, digs his toes down into the ice to relieve him of the biting frustration in his heart.

It’s been three days since his last encounter with Yuri; two for the other Yuuri. After his so called “fall-out” with the younger Russian boy, Viktor found no interest in associating with the other Yuuri either. Yuri’s last words taunted him, his shadow a dark contrast to the snow in Viktor’s frozen mind as he stepped away from Viktor’s life. Yuuri was a welcome change in Viktor’s life, but he liked sticking to the understandable things for a reason.

Viktor swooped up in the air once more, rising up like an eagle soaring to the skies. He spun with a perturbed jerk of his body and landed almost clumsily on the triple toe loop jump. He asked himself, “ _what am I doing?_ ” over and over again, but only a strangled, _“I don’t know_ ” presented itself to his bleak mind.

In the background, _La Campanella’s_ screeching notes aided him in his powerful surges across the empty ice rink and comforted him during his times of solitude. He tried to stop thinking of his past friend’s words, but it crawled back into his mind no matter how many times he kicked it out.

With the last notes of the piano, he finished with a flourish. Viktor panted heavily. He did not like forcing his true emotions into a professional routine, but with no other way to expel the conflicting distress plaguing his mind, he decided to rigorously practice in the ice rink.

A short gasp alerted him of another’s presence, and Viktor snapped his eyes open. He swerved his head to the side in a curious mission, and found a beautiful man with midnight swept locks gelled back atop his head. His dark, monsoon eyes unravelled secrets as he almost bravely stepped forward, a tilt of his head indicating his sparkling curiosity.

“I didn’t know you skated, Viktor.” Ah, it all made sense--the familiarly soft figure, the glint of his onyx eyes as he stared at Viktor with wide-eyed admiration. Viktor smiled politely, slowly forcing his way over to a doe-eyed Yuuri wearing all black skin tight leggings and an elbow length shirt.

“You never asked,” Viktor uncharacteristically broke from his facade, but Yuuri already saw past it long ago. The black haired man shrugged casually. Something about the radiating confidence from Yuuri’s transformation tapped into Viktor’s wilder desires. Apparently, the usually glasses wearing male grew braver with contacts and slicked back hair. It was a nice addition to Viktor’s growing reasons of why he liked Yuuri.

“Do you mind if I skate with you?” Part of Viktor wants to gladly shove Yuuri out. But another part of him yearns for Yuuri’s ebbing kindness, to desperately cling onto the love he’s cultivated in Yuuri and pretend like it’s not as fake as the rest of the world’s adoration.

“But of course.” It’s fake. Everything is fake, fake, fake. Yet Viktor invites Yuuri into his world of deceit, allows Yuuri to smooth a seductive hand down the curved slope of Viktor’s back. His spine tingles excitedly, nerves buzzing with apprehension.

For the way Yuuri looks at him--turning his head slightly behind him to gaze at Viktor with half mast eyes twinkling with adoration--spikes passion into the heated coils of his innards and lures out a hungry _eros_ from within his soul. Viktor smiles, shaking his head slightly as Yuuri presents his arched backside to him, and accepts the needle Yuuri uses to sew up the unravelling seams of Viktor’s soul.

With one simple grin, Yuuri sprints off, sharp blades of his skates creating a satisfying clack of his toes cleaner and prettier than any music Viktor’s ever heard. Yuuri delicately spins, soaring backwards with the tenacity of a beginner, yet still as skilled as a seasoned skater. His arms dance in tune with an invisible melody; Viktor can still hear it like the drums of his pulse and the strings of his heart plucked like a guitar when Yuuri passionately drives his existence into the ice, into Viktor’s heart.

No verbal communication is shared between the duo. Only Yuuri’s twinkling midnight eyes beckon Viktor to join him in this intricate dance, a fusion of their combined experiences and trifling tactics to appease the crowd. But, there’s no pressuring eyes on them nor judges commenting on every single one of their moves like an overbearing parent breathing over their necks. It’s just shy Yuuri--transformed into such confidence it’s almost erotic--and charming Viktor.

Viktor notices his feet skating without his consent, watches as Yuuri bounds up next to him with light touches of his skates before he’s dragging a searing trail past Viktor’s shoulder with nimble fingers. The spotlight is centered on the couple now, and Viktor accepts the challenge with an impish grin.

They flirt like highschool all over again--fleeting eyes and gentle touches that ignites a spark in Viktor’s gut. He traces Yuuri’s back with his own greedy fingers, tainting the purity without any ounce of guilt on his part. And Yuuri doesn’t mind. He encourages Viktor’s touches until they’re almost chest to chest, heaving breaths in between so that they can barely touch. Spiced tea drifts into Viktor’s heavily breathing nose.

“You’re not so bad, _luchik_.” He compliments earnestly between ragged intakes of air.

Yuuri grins cheekily, full of wild abandon and so close, yet so far away, that Viktor grasps onto Yuuri’s hips and relishes in the tiny gasp emitting from his soft lips. His hand molds like a puzzle piece onto another, fitting snugly on the curve of Yuuri’s waist like it belongs there.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Viktor.” Yuuri taunts back, his breath fanning over Viktor’s neck. Yuuri retaliates with a skim of his fingertips that brush dangerously close to Viktor’s rear. Before Viktor can growl and grasp on tighter to the beautiful male, Yuuri is already gone. He yanked away in Viktor’s momentary distraction and skated backwards with one foot raised up. The playful twinkle in his eyes is what forces Viktor to give chase.

One runs while the other follows, back and forth, back and forth until Yuuri finally grabs onto the back of Viktor’s shirt and draws the other into his warm embrace. This time, Viktor is the one melting into this wonderful man’s chest, their hearts beating in a frenzied sync. The silver haired male clutches onto Yuuri close, letting him listen to the way his heart beats for _him_ and the aphrodisiac effect the other binds him in.

They dance together in the dying sunlight that morphs into soft moonlight once evening hits. It’s not too late, but the sun is already sleeping in the shorter autumn days that Viktor always abhorred. Yuuri floats softly next to him, the high of their shared ecstasy simmered down after the approaching night assumed control of the sky.

He’s breathtaking, Viktor marvels in rapt admiration, and he can’t help but think of the ugly duckling tale. Yuuri is no ugly duckling, and although a few of his moves resemble a waddling duck (unsteady, but undeniably cute), the black haired male is still gorgeously charming. He’ll surely transform into a swan eventually, Viktor ponders, and Viktor is a bit excited at the thought of polishing up a golden egg, a diamond in the rough that Yuuri is.

They speak little of their concerns and stress, but share tidbits of useless information in quiet tones (to not ruin the mood). Regardless, Viktor remembers every little aspect of the college student named Yuuri, who most ignored but many admired from afar. Although Yuuri was handsome in a silent manner, not many approached him due to his cold aura. He was like an ice prince, even though Viktor was positive Yuuri was otherwise.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Katsudon. My mother makes the best katsudon around here.”

“Does she own a restaurant?”

“No, she’s just the cook for the hot springs my family owns.” Viktor’s eyebrows raise to his forehead. He suggestively winks at Yuuri, who’s pretty and pink cheeks blossom like cherry blossoms in the spring tempts his hungrier side.

“You should come visit.” Viktor readily agrees to the invitation, though he is a little stunned at how forward the other is. His pinkie finger nudges Yuuri’s as they idly skate around the rink, and Viktor creeps his fingers closer until two of their fingers meet. Yuuri jumps a little when Viktor becomes steadily more daring, his fingers entwining with the smaller man’s.

Viktor smiles as innocently as possible. “My hands are a little cold.” Not a total lie, but still unbelievable when they recently exercised for almost two hours straight. Yuuri chuckles, a garbled sound from deep within his throat that raises goosebumps up Viktor’s arm.

Viktor’s heart yelps in glee when Yuuri squeezes his hand.

“I guess mine are too.” They hold hands for the rest of the night until Viktor walks Yuuri to the bus stop and Yuuri plants a swift kiss on Viktor’s cheek. Before Viktor can lock his own lips with Yuuri’s, the other man had already fled onto the bus, a hurried goodbye leaking from his mouth as his cheeks stain with an adorable crimson Viktor will never tire of.

As Viktor gazes up at the moon, he sighs. He clenches his ice cold fingers into a longing fist and stuffs his hand into his jacket. His body refuses to heat up for the rest of the night.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Yuuri!” Viktor happily greets the enchanting male, who’s oversized sweaters and massive glasses falling on the bridge of his nose captivates the Russian with an impetuous vigor. Yuuri halts in his tracks, a small smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth when he regards Viktor with nothing short of fondness. Viktor grins back, bouncing up to Yuuri like a dog returning to its owner.

Yuuri dips his head down slightly in a polite greeting. “Hello, Viktor.” The gentle lilt of his voice soothes Viktor’s worries for the day and mends the taller man in ways Yuuri will never comprehend. Viktor inches closer, a puppy pout on his face that he’s figured out earlier on will cause Yuuri’s knees to turn to jello. Yuuri will then listen to any of his requests (well, almost any) with a bright hue of bubblegum on his face while Viktor grinned to himself in victory.

Yuuri sighs exasperatedly, but gives in to Viktor’s silent demand. He opens his arms out, eyes shifting to the side in his cute embarrassment as Viktor sweeps Yuuri up into a warm embrace. Immediately, Viktor seeks out Yuuri’s lovely scent, burying his nose into the crown of his coal locks. Yuuri sighs, leaning his head in between the crook of Viktor’s neck. To Viktor’s joy, Yuuri presses a soft peck on the taller man’s pulse, breath fanning out with shudders as Viktor trails his fingers down the expanse of his spine. Oh, how he loves these little moments.

Oh, how he wishes for time to stop. Oh, how he loves this man with every fiber of his being.

“U-Um…” Yuuri mutters, “Are you free tonight?” Viktor’s heart performs a backflip.

“Hmm… I should check my busy schedule…” Viktor teases, pressing his lips atop Yuuri’s head and smiling when Yuuri flinches at the intimate action before burying his head further into Viktor’s neck with a tiny, puppy-like whine.

“If you don’t want to go, just say so.” Yuuri mutters, but it’s not as grumpy as he wants to sound (he could never, Viktor laughs in his mind). The raven haired male pecks Viktor on his exposed neck to entice him, and it works all too well. Viktor hums, tilting his neck for the other’s better access, before absentmindedly drawing random squiggles into Yuuri’s back.

“I do want to go, Yuuri!” He promises, and he’s not lying for once. For once, Viktor is completely truthful in wanting to spend time with patient, kind Yuuri. Yuuri, who’s glassy eyes and mirthful smiles brighten Viktor’s day. He makes Viktor strive to become a better person--someone who can stand on equal ground as Yuuri instead of selfishly thinking only about himself.

“Okay.” Yuuri nuzzles his nose into Viktor’s neck as an endearing sign of his satisfaction. “Thank you for agreeing. I know there are plenty of other people you could hang out with instead of, well, _me_ , but you choose to hang out with me.” The saddest part is that once upon a time, Viktor didn’t see that as _wrong_. Yuuri was right in his assumption of people flocking after Viktor with ease. However, now that Viktor confirmed his feelings were not of replaceable interest, the taller man did not fancy Yuuri’s crushing low self-esteem.

“Yuuri! That’s not true!” An upset frown presented on his face. Yuuri refuses to look him in the eye, so Viktor tenderly cups the man’s cheek. Slowly, he brought up Yuuri’s face until they were painstakingly close. The taller male closed in until their breaths mingled, fanning out into a combined heat wave. Yuuri’s doe eyed appearance tickled Viktor’s heart; Yuuri gazed up at Viktor with an adorable deer-in-headlights expression that cracked a smile from the other.

“I’d much rather spend time with _you_ , my sweet.” Viktor whispered as he stroked Yuuri’s blazing cheeks with a breathtaking fondness. Yuuri gasped quietly. His eyelids fluttered prettier than a hummingbird’s flight, and Viktor could only bask in the incredible beam of moonlight Yuuri shone on him.

“Okay…” He still sounded hesitant, but the sugary heat of Viktor’s words swayed him. “Okay. I want you to come to my place.” As he formed the sentence, Viktor’s eyes widened. He never expected to visit Yuuri’s home so soon.

“Of course. I’ll be there.” He solemnly promised. Yuuri chortled lightly, his eyes squeezing almost shut from the wide grin blooming on his face. Viktor clutched onto Yuuri tighter. Ah, it was no good, Viktor swore to himself. He was still a selfish man after all.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 _“The words you said to me, did you mean it? When you kissed me under the stars, was it nothing but a farce to you…?”_ Viktor never thought he would be crammed in Yuuri’s tiny blue car, sitting directly adjacent to the said man who safely drove down the winding roads. As they distanced themselves farther from school grounds, the buildings transformed into empty landscapes, some barren while others brimmed with overflowing forestry.

He never expected Yuuri to be a singer, either. Granted, Viktor heard _better_ people sing (case and point--Yuri), but the sentiment behind the lyrics as the younger man sang caressed his romantic heart strings. Viktor grinned encouragingly to the shy Yuuri, who spontaneously began to sing quietly in Japanese. The final cadence ascended in the air until finally, it plummeted into a comfortable silence between the duo.

“Am I meeting your parents?” Viktor eagerly questioned. He leaned back in the tiny car, his long legs barely able to breath in the confines of his seat. Fortunately, the drive would be over soon--at least, according to his companion--and he would be able to stretch his dead limbs in the fresh air. Hasetsu was a quiet, sleeping city a bit farther away from bustling cities and honking cars from impatient, fast paced people. Compared to Viktor’s hometown, it wasn’t too much of a far cry from it, but the quaint town was a lot more quiet.

“Uh, y-yes!” Yuuri impressively belted out. Viktor laughed, shooing the scrambled apologies from Yuuri with a flick of his wrist. Yuuri clamped his mouth shut instantly after, the cherry blossoms woven delicately on his face trailing down to his neck and curling around his ears like a shiny ruby necklace.

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Viktor softly said. His fingers brushed hair behind Yuuri’s adorably candy apple ears. Yuuri grunted, but he didn’t complain. The raven haired man’s knuckles turned a ghostly pale of white from how rigidly he clutched onto the wheel.

Viktor chuckled to himself, but withdrew his prying fingers and the urge to bite Yuuri’s sweet ears. He repressed his desires, and chose to fantasize whilst staring at the passing, dead trees on the blank landscapes.

By the time they arrived, the moon rose higher from the horizon with a glowing white light that painted Yuuri in a pure, ethereal glow. Yuuri stopped his car out on the street; the two separately grabbed their bags and overnight gear before stepping into the street and heading down to the vacant hot springs resort together.

“What a lovely place, Yuuri.” Viktor complimented. Yuuri preened a little at the flattering remark before he smiled, lopsided, at the Russian man. Viktor reached his hand out to grasp onto Yuuri’s own, but Yuuri drifted away due to his faint fatigue, hunger, and longing for his family. Viktor’s hand floated back down before curling into a tight fist. He plastered a smile on his face before following Yuuri through the front door.

At once, heat flooded onto Viktor’s chilled bones, and he stared wide eyed at the vibrancy of it all. Strung colored paper lanterns--some with Japanese characters, others without--hung from around the corners of the walls; tucked in one corner, a well lit reception desk without a person behind it greeted Viktor first thing while dark blue banners across a tatami styled door invitingly welcomed him in. Viktor did always appreciate the ambiance in traditional Japanese places--after all, he did very much admire Japan and loved the culture it brought.

“Mom, I’m home!” Yuuri called out. He toed off his ratty black sneakers while Viktor copied his actions. Following Yuuri’s example, he slipped into clean house slippers that dragged against the wooden ground. Straight after Yuuri’s voice permeated the area, a loud squeal from a different corner of the resort was heard.

“Yuuri, welcome home!” A short, stout woman with the same eyes as Yuuri’s appeared out of the tatami room, a giant welcoming smile stretching her chubby cheeks. Her shoulder length chestnut hair fanned around her tanned face as she jumped up to greet her only son with a warm hug, glasses clacking down to her nose from the sudden movement. Yuuri jolted, but awkwardly returned the embrace.

“Oh? Who is this, Yuuri?” The mother asked, gesturing to Viktor who stood behind Yuuri with a grin on his face. At her indication, Viktor stepped forward with a bubbly, beautiful smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Yuuri’s mother. I am Viktor Nikiforov.” He sealed the deal with a kiss on her smaller hand, eliciting a gape from Yuuri and a blush from his mother. She laughed boisterously, slipping her hand away from his while the other hand cupped her hot cheek.

“What a flatterer! My name is Katsuki Hiroko. Welcome to our home, Viktor.” She pat Yuuri on the arm with a cheery smile. “Is this your boyfriend, Yuuri?”

“Mom!” Yuuri yelped at the same time Viktor nodded eagerly. The tanned woman paid no mind to her silly son and nodded in approval to the Russian man.

“Wonderful taste, Yuuri!” Yuuri opened his mouth to flusteredly retort, but she beckoned the two further in. “Now, come in, come in! I’m sure you two are starving!” Viktor secretly snickered to himself at Yuuri’s defeated, yet panicked face.

“Thank you, Mrs. Katsuki!”

“Oh please, call me Hiroko or even Mom.” She chuckled, winking in an entirely conspiratorial manner to Viktor. Viktor grinned, sending back his own flirtatious wink to the older woman.

 _“MOM!”_ Yuuri shrieked.

“Of course, _mom_.” Viktor laughed. Yuuri glared at the two of them with little to no heat, and a pout resumed on his face for the rest of the night.

After a content and lively meal (so unlike his silent, freezing apartment that Viktor regret not visiting to this wonderful place sooner), Hiroko ushered the two for a peaceful soak in the hot springs. Viktor readily jumped onboard with the idea, but Yuuri remained apprehensive at his mother’s suggestion. Especially after the whole dinner fiasco in which the Katsuki family and Viktor teamed up to tease the raven haired male; Yuuri claimed to not want to associate with any of them.

Viktor eventually convinced the smaller male to join him in the hot springs with a whisper of a promise in his ear. Yuuri turned beet red at the inappropriate proposition Viktor uttered into his ear, and he stormed out of the room as soon as his sister Mari “begged” both of them to use condoms.

“Also, I don’t want to clean up after you, so can you, like, have sex in the locker room or something? Remember the college rule: If your private parts throb, put a sock on the doorknob.”

To which Yuuri hotly screamed, “WE’RE NOT GOING TO HAVE SEX!” He then panted, came down from his high, suffered embarrassment from his family _and_ the few regular patrons’ knowing looks, and hightailed it out of the room.

Viktor guffawed with the rest of the family, feeling more at home than anywhere else since he’s moved to Japan. Hiroko beamed at him, shooing the taller male away to follow her shy son. She promised no one would bother them, but did politely hint at keeping the hot springs clean.

“Yuuri!” Viktor shouted after stripping down. He simply walked out of the changing room and into the steamy hot springs, which clogged up his nose and blurred his vision. After adapting to the sudden change in temperature, he cautiously dipped a toe into the steaming water.

“Ah, V-Viktor…” Yuuri nervously replied, his head floating amongst the barely transparent water. From hearing his voice, Viktor followed the noise, wading over to his cute black haired man, who averted his eyes as soon as the upper half of Viktor’s naked torso presented itself to Yuuri.

The blue eyed male sunk down next to Yuuri, a relaxed sigh releasing from his tired lips. The hot water cleansed his form, wrapped him up in blankets of warm liquid that combat with the frigid autumn air from the outdoors. Viktor splashed the water on his face, relishing in the heat emitting from the water and the clean scent of water and cotton.

“Won’t you overheat like that?” He asked Yuuri, who refused to budge from his current position: water swamped to his mouth. Yuuri sighed and began to remove his upper body from the water. Viktor couldn’t help but stare. His eyes hungrily mapped out the planes of Yuuri’s soft chest, of the dusty light brown nipples dripping with water and the defined collarbones jutting out from his chest. His whole upper body was sprinkled with a light pink, and Viktor couldn’t help but immediately imagine lewd situations with the other man.

Yuuri shuffled his body to the right until half of his back faced Viktor. He was obviously embarrassed, and could sense Viktor’s heated gaze upon his body. Viktor internally cooed; _turning your back to someone can be dangerous_ , he thought gleefully. However, he did not act upon his desires. He repressed his sexual urges, and opted to stare at the lovely stone fountain across the way.

“It feels good…” Viktor groaned in pleasure. He stretched out his sore limbs before leaning back on the rock behind him for support. Yuuri didn’t peep a single word. He sighed, a way of saying he agreed with Viktor, as he too pressed his side against the rock.

Viktor couldn’t help it; his eyes returned to Yuuri: from the ridge of his spine to the curve of his waist. His backbones dripped with water, and Viktor swiped a thirsty tongue across his lips. Maybe the heat was starting to overcome his impulse control. Or maybe the thought of being only a few inches away from a _nude_ Yuuri turned Viktor on to the point that the blood from his brain rushed to his dick.

Either way, he did not anticipate moving forward, a large splash of the water against the rock signalling his rash movements. Yuuri gasped, soft and sweet and Viktor desired nothing more than to hold this lovely male. So, he did.

His arms wrapped around Yuuri’s warm, slick body, and his nose immediately seeked refuge in the clean shampoo smell of Yuuri’s nape. Viktor sighed, feeling so joyfully content with life as he held the man he loved in his arms.

“V-Viktor…?”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll let go.” He promised, despite his brain protesting against the notion. Still, he stood by his words. If Yuuri truly experienced discomfort with their bodies squeezed together, then Viktor would release his hold on the man. No use in frightening his little rabbit, after all.

However, to his immense pleasure, Yuuri shook his head, a shaky exhale emitting from his relaxed form. He tilted his head a little to accommodate Viktor’s head pressed up onto his neck; Viktor grinned, slipping his fingers down to trace butterfly like touches onto Yuuri’s stomach. His fingers dipped dangerously low before curling back up to Yuuri’s stomach like the lustful heat swirling in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach. Yuuri gulped, then moaned lightly, a gentle lilt of his throat that spurred Viktor on.

Viktor peppered Yuuri’s neck with tiny kisses, his mouth growing bolder as Yuuri shuddered beneath him. _Yes,_ Viktor thought triumphantly. He mouthed a bite on Yuuri’s shoulder, licking away at the dotted water, transparent as morning dew and giving Yuuri’s pale skin a shiny luster. Viktor finally settled his lips on top of Yuuri’s rapidly racing pulse before he slowly, cautiously suckled on the heated, pink skin.

Yuuri gasped, a throaty groan rising from his throat. Viktor continued, applying more pressure on his ministrations until his unsated hunger rose up like a tidal wave to slam into the glass bottle of restraint holding him back. Like a released dam, he surged forward, gently turning Yuuri until the man’s chest faced his and their hardening nipples almost touched.

“V-Viktor…” Yuuri breathed heavily, moaning his name like it was a prayer. And Viktor _loved_ it. He thrust his body forward, successfully closing in the gap between the two. A spark of fiery passion ignited in his heart, his body, his _soul_ as their chests met in a tight embrace and Viktor dove down to firmly press his mouth onto Yuuri’s. To his satisfaction, Yuuri rose up to meet him halfway.

The kiss was no perfect thing, but it meant the _world_ to Viktor when meek Yuuri--beautiful, intelligent, caring, and _his_ , oh how Viktor celebrated at their mutual connection--tentatively lapped at his tongue with small kitten licks. Viktor enthusiastically opened his mouth, allowing Yuuri to slip in a shy tongue to meet with his own. The coiling of heat in Viktor’s belly, like snakes erupting into white butterflies, spiralled uncontrollably, mixed in his intestines and the rest of his innards until it was a jumbled mess clogging up his throat.

When their lips disconnected, heady inhales of greedy breaths the only sound of their passion, Yuuri cutely nuzzled his nose with Viktor’s. _An eskimo kiss_ , Viktor thought giddily. He grinned widely--a true, honest thing full of sparkling canines and a twinkle of his sky blue eyes scrunched behind delighted eyelids.

“U-Uh, Viktor…” Yuuri spoke with a thick, nervous tongue.

“Hmm?” Viktor hummed, sifting his fingers through the fine, wet locks of this beautiful man. Yuuri submerged himself further in the water with a content sigh, head leaning towards Viktor’s hand. Viktor’s eyes are shiny with fascination and awe, but he continues to comb through the other man’s hair with precise, dignified fingers.

Yuuri reopens dark woody eyes, hooded as a forest shadow. “What does that make us?” He warily asked, fixing his eyes on a certain point behind Viktor’s glittering silver locks. Viktor inches just a little closer--just a little--with his own heedful actions. They’re swimming in thick water, drowning in the whirlpool of emotions love offers.

“What do you want us to be?” Viktor murmurs against Yuuri’s skin--he can’t help it. Yuuri’s pliable, soft body is begging to be touched, and Viktor has an odd fascination with the smoothness of Yuuri’s body, of the contrast between etched bones and slight love handles. He’s beautifully diverse, full of ups and downs and attracting opposites that mesmerize Viktor’s starry blue eyes.

Yuuri giggles, softly, tenderly from Viktor’s ticklish ministrations on his skin. “I-I don’t know. Something more than friends?” He adds the last part hopefully, inky orbs dipping with nervousness like melting chocolate. Viktor nibbles on Yuuri’s collarbone, finds enjoyment in the other man’s deep gasps, and smooths his lips up the supple pale skin until he hears a darker moan squeeze past Yuuri’s delicate lips.

“Your wish is my command.” He teases, brushing his lips faintly against Yuuri’s. Yuuri huffs, obviously not convinced by his flirting nor of his captivating accent. Instead, the man surprises Viktor further by wrapping nimble arms around a head of snowy ribbons and tugs Viktor down until sky meets earth.

He melds their lips together, mashing them slightly, but Viktor hums mirthfully anyway. Yuuri is inexperienced and young and naive and a lot of things, but Viktor is no better. He’s not as perfect as people make him out to be nor as beautifully kind and caring like Yuri is. No, they’re two yin and yangs to each other, and Viktor wonders if that’s the secret behind the strong attraction he harbors towards Yuuri.

“Does that make us boyfriends?” Yuuri clarifies once their lips are juicy and ripe as pomegranates. Viktor snorts out a soft chuckle; it’s endearing how shy and naive Yuuri is most of the time.

“Yes, my dear Yuuri.” Viktor turns over slightly, taking Yuuri’s smaller hand in his own. He smiles at the pink staining Yuuri’s body and swims closer. Their shoulders touch, Yuuri’s breath hitches loudly, and serene silence sings through Viktor’s ears.

“Okay.” Yuuri bobs his head up and down, a bit of pride and confidence returning to him. Yuuri is dizzy with emotions, Viktor can tell, and the raven haired male slicks his hair back with trembling hands and a matching curve of a smile on his lips. He’s both adorable and sexy at the same time; Viktor gulps heavily, but refrains from jumping the other on the spot.

“Shall we get out?” Viktor asks once the pink in Yuuri’s body shifts to a sunburned red. He’s still beautiful, and Viktor had spent the past three minutes staring at the small freckles dotting Yuuri’s fair skin. The vivid color brings out those angel kisses, and he leaves Viktor just a little breathless. When Yuuri rises up first, gratefully grinning at his new _boyfriend,_ Viktor hurriedly shifts his eyes.

A tiny cloth soaked in water drips rain down Yuuri’s lovely thighs and leaves nothing to imagination. Rivulets of water stream down Yuuri’s back as he turns to head to shore, and Viktor stumbles behind, refusing to be left alone with his own perverted thoughts when he could easily reenact them in real life.

Silence befalls the couple as they dry off. Viktor decides to wear a complimentary bath robe, silky and soft as it hugs his body and slips off one shoulder. Yuuri changes into a pair of sweats and a small gray sweater that reveals a faint sliver of moonlight skin whenever he moves. Viktor is more than enraptured at this point, and he doesn’t hesitate to use his newfound status as boyfriend to invade Yuuri’s personal space. He does still hover over the other man in case Yuuri refuses him (which hurts a lot more than it should), but the raven haired man huffs and drapes Viktor’s arm over his shoulder.

They pass by Yuuri’s smug looking family, down past the hallway until Yuuri is dragging Viktor over to his room. Viktor is more than gleeful at the turn of events, and he doesn’t hesitate to close the door behind him with a satisfied click. The door remains closed for the rest of the night, except for when one of the two--they are too disoriented to remember who--hangs a sock on the doorknob.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Fall transforms into winter easily enough; midterms pass, then the winter semester of school ends with winter break and the end of the year. Viktor doesn’t realize time is passing by so quickly until he’s changing out of heavy winter jackets and replacing them with lighter sweaters. It’s not as cold as Russia can be in Japan, so Viktor is given insane looks, quirks of delicate eyebrows from students still garbed in ten layers. He grins cheerfully to the student body, and continues his way to his shared Biology class with Yuuri.

Lately, however, his boyfriend has drifted. He’s distant, heart wrenchingly so, with sad, meek gazes down turned to his shuffling feet and a thousand apologies floating out of his mouth like the crisp, winter air. He moves with the grace of a fleeting phantom, and Viktor can only blink in dismay as Yuuri escapes from his grasp with dancing feet.

Viktor doesn’t understand. Everything had been going so swimmingly too. He formally met Yuuri’s parents and even became more acquainted with his nice folks and sister. Viktor’s learned of Yuuri’s lonely childhood, ridden with gaping holes of solitude ( _like my childhood_ , Viktor notes) and a somber quietness that is only relieved by his love for figure skating. Viktor immerses himself with Yuuri until they are not two beings, but one, and they become a completely different person together.

Yuuri is exhilarating and confident, Viktor thoughtfully hushed. Viktor shared little bits of his past and of a few worries as well. Like an iron chest donned in hardened silver and gold, Viktor cautiously began to open up, like Yuuri was the golden key to his lock, and like he would allow Yuuri to open all of his secret chests, plain and out for everyone to see. In return, Yuuri shared his own insecurities, and Viktor thought they would have grown stronger together, their bond deepened.

He supposes he was proceeding too quickly. With Yuuri, time is forever in a standstill as Viktor gazes at the other, whose bubbly laughter spills like champagne and dark chocolate eyes sooth his soul. Viktor doesn’t think of the competition anymore. He doesn’t think of solving the enigma of Yuuri Katsuki, nor of seeking out another interesting specimen.

No, all he thinks about is seeing Yuuri, eliciting a jovial laugh and a tender grin that never fails to scrunch up his eyelids. Viktor doesn’t realize he’s terribly enamored with Yuuri until the other man begins shying away again like when they first met, sans the pink hue on his cheeks. Viktor identifies the emptiness in his life as loneliness. He sees that Yuuri Katsuki is unlike anyone he’s met before--with boyish ideals, a grand, lavish heart, and starry eyes--and that he truly cherishes the man, not as a game, but as a person.

He longs to express his feelings, to shout out his love for Yuuri. He wants nothing more than to stay faithfully by Yuuri’s side, even if he’s regarded as nothing more than a pet. Viktor desires for Yuuri, desires for his touch, his body, his _love_.

Yet… Why was Yuuri distancing himself?

“Yuuri!” Viktor all too happily greets, running up to his little hare before the other can escape. Yuuri’s foot inches away from Viktor, and he looks torn between forgoing his drilled politeness and running away or facing Viktor with a strained smile. He ends up choosing the latter, but discomfort radiates off of him in tense waves.

The smile on Viktor’s face drops. “Yuuri, how have you been?” He carefully asks. A paranoid, fearful part of him wonders if Yuuri discovered his past relationship tendencies, of how he flittered between different people and left them with broken hearts due to his bored attitude. He sincerely hopes Yuuri hasn’t heard of any awful rumors that Viktor can remedy. More than his own image, Viktor does not wish to be the cause of Yuuri’s sorrow.

“Good.” It’s short, forced out between grit teeth and tight lips. Viktor’s heart falls, a roar of painful ocean waves surrounding him. He’s pinned to a cliff of doubt, washed down to a husk of his former, arrogant self in Yuuri’s tidal waves.

“Yuuri, what’s going on?” The words sound desperate, yet numb. He’s heard of these situations before, and has even been in plenty of similar events. Yet, he was never on the receiving end. But now, watching Yuuri’s eyes avert to a pine tree across the way, Viktor is more sure than ever of what was yet to come.

“I’m sorry, Viktor…” Yuuri’s mouth moves and sound comes out. Yet, Viktor can’t hear a single thing. He’s mute with fear, clammed up and taut. Viktor’s eyes are wide, he knows. The silver haired man knows all the expressions he taught himself to hold back, to mask behind a cheerful smiling sticker, are suddenly releasing onto his face.

“Wait, _sakharok_.” Viktor begs. He would have fallen to his knees, dug his white knuckles into the hem of Yuuri’s pants, _anything_ to persuade Yuuri to love him again. He’s distraught. He knew karma would eventually seek its revenge--a spiteful thing wished upon him by many heartbroken peers.

“Viktor…” Yuuri’s eyes soften sympathetically. He’s drawn away by another person; Viktor desperately grasps on a simple reason of why Yuuri is leaving him behind. He always expected himself to be the one person turning away from Yuuri instead of the other way around. He even used to imagine it, back when he didn’t realize how important Yuuri meant to him.

“Please, Yuuri, tell me what I can do.” He grasps for the needle buried in a haystack, but it’s already slipped between his slippery hands. “What happened?”

“I don’t know…” It’s a big, fat lie, matching the big fat tears welling up in Viktor’s heart. Clouds of gray shade the blue in his eyes as he stumbles forward, reaching out his arm to Yuuri. But sweet, kind, caring, lovely Yuuri brushes him away, faces the other direction with a sad, sad smile. He shouldn’t be the one crying--he’s not the one ending it all and effectively ripping out Viktor’s heart.

“Yuuri…”

The raven haired man steels himself. His eyes are colder than unlit coal, icy as the winter that surrounds them. “Please just leave me alone, Viktor. Goodbye.” Yuuri walks away. Viktor is frozen, numb with disbelief until it all comes crashing down to him. He slumps to his knees, wet and cold amongst the thin layer of snow on the dead grass. Viktor’s eyes are glossier than a marble’s as he lets himself be free. His emotions swarm out all at once like angry hornets, attacking and drilling into him with the feeling of loss.

 _Goodbye_ , he hears Yuuri say, back straight and broad. He’s certain now that someone’s told Yuuri, ratted him out as petty revenge. The old Viktor wouldn’t have cared. He would have scoffed internally, but smiled at Yuuri for making the decision for him Then, he would leave first (because he always wanted the last laugh) and wander off to a new pursuit of interest.

But this was _new_ Viktor--someone who learned to love and laugh and _feel_ in Yuuri Katsuki’s presence. He flourished under the moonlight of the raven haired man, grew dependent on Yuuri’s beautiful persona.

Tears flowed freely from Viktor’s eyes as he clutched at his sweater. He wore Yuuri’s favorite one, the one Yuuri liked to anchor his fingers into with a desperation that Viktor matched as their lips met. Their souls connected, their laughs entwined, and Viktor had never felt as much brimming happiness with another than with Yuuri.

So it hurt even more when Yuuri left him alone in the winter, an apologetic expression on his face because as much as Viktor wished to cast him as a villain, Yuuri was nothing of the sort. Yuri was a benevolent and caring person, someone who taught Viktor how to love. He could not see Yuuri as anything other than his savior, the light of his life for pulling him out of the dark cave he stayed in.

Viktor sobbed, uncaring of the people staring at him or the whispers flying between rapid lips. They would not understand, never understand the way Yuuri made him _feel_. The silver haired man buried his frigid hands into his face. The icy temperature didn’t bother him. He was used to the cold of solitude weighing down his bones anyway.

Viktor cried and cried, hot, salty tears dripping down to the floor and paving its way through the snow. He didn’t know how long he stayed out there: minutes, hours, months. All he knew was that the pain striking at his heart was too real and that he would never be able to hold, kiss, love Yuuri like he used to.

He hoped he wasn’t just a passing attracting to Yuuri. He hoped the other man knew he was loved by Viktor, cherished and the light of someone else’s world. Viktor hoped, more than anything, that Yuuri would remember him, would see the man’s twinkling eyes staring at him with such loving adoration that he would choke up. He hoped Yuuri would remember the kisses they shared and the feelings that bound them together. He hoped Yuuri would never forget the people they became when they were together, and of how much of an impact he was on Viktor.

He loves Yuuri Katuski. He loves Yuuri Katsuki like no one in his life before, so he cried. Viktor muffled his tears, drew his love out in rivulets so that maybe Yuuri would see how much he loved him. But, there was no hope in praying and hoping for someone to love him, to take him back.

And as Viktor shakily stood up like a baby deer learning how to walk, he thought of how ironic it was that he would have been in Yuuri’s position a month ago. He sighed, wiping away the stray tears on his dull red cheeks. He thought of Yuuri’s smile, fading deep into his heart and resounding as a lovely song in his head, and of his friend Yuri’s words.

He walked home, numb and frozen like ice. The playboy was not Viktor this time, leaving Viktor as the heartbroken damsel.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 _“Oi, Viktor!”_ Yelling accompanied with pounding at his door woke Viktor up first thing in the morning. He groaned, his chest stuffy and pained while his cotton filled head fuzzily attempted to process. He glanced over to his alarm clock, which read 9:13 am in bold, angry red letters. Viktor groaned again before stuffing his head under the pillow when the knocks on his door continued.

“Viktor! I know you’re in there!” The pounding intensified. Viktor figured he would have to apologize to the landlord later for his rowdy friend (or ex-friend since they hadn’t talked for a few months).

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!” Okay, that was a little _too_ far in Viktor’s opinion, but he begrudgingly slipped out of his warm bed and trudged over to the front door. Before the other man could act upon his reckless promise of breaking down Viktor’s door, the silver haired man opened it.

“Yuri! What a wonderful surprise at 9 o’clock in the morning!” Viktor sarcastically greeted, a thousand watt smile stretching uncomfortably on his skin. Yuri’s scowl deepened before he pushed his way into Viktor’s apartment like he owned the place. Viktor clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Seriously, Yuri, it’s too early for this _der’mo_.” He watched Yuri storm into his bedroom, causing the older man to trail after him with grumpy steps. He nearly stomped to his room, but refrained from having to apologize to the neighbors downstairs as well. Yuri finally halted in his tracks (in his mission to do whatever in Viktor’s house), a stupefied expression on his face.

“You’re not afraid of the cold.” He stated matter-of-factly. His perceptive ice blue eyes surveyed the mess of blankets and coats sprawled on the bed as well as the adjacent heater plugged into the wall. Viktor rolled his eyes before slumping down into his warm bed. He yawned, cuddling up with a rolled up blanket.

“I like the heat.” He mumbled, mainly to himself. Yuri didn’t say anything, to which Viktor was glad. He almost drifted off until Yuri loudly cleared his throat to catch the other man’s attention.

“You’ve been in here for a _week,_ Viktor.” A hint of worry colored his tone a sour gray. “And katsudon’s dumbass keeps asking about you, even though I told him not to rush things through.” Here, Viktor’s ears perked and he poked out half his face from the makeshift pillow to peer at Yuri.

“Yuuri spoke of me?” The blond sighed, blowing air through his long bangs in frustration. He crossed his arms with a threatening glower, but he just appeared as a tiny tiger kitten to Viktor. Viktor listened intently anyway, propping up his elbows to stare at Viktor with a tinge of pathetic hope in his eyes.

Finally, Yuri snapped, messing up his blond hair with agitated hands. “You two are so fucking stupid!” He screeched in fury. As soon as his yell stopped, he dropped his hands uselessly to his sides. Yuri shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay, so I talked with katsudon--your Yuuri or whatever--two weeks ago. He was acting a little strange and shit, and I don’t care who you fuck or don’t fuck, but he was always following me or some shit. I thought he was a stalker, so I confronted him one day.” Yuri explained, grumpily marching over to Viktor’s bed so he could occupy half of it. He sat down, shoulders coiled up with tension.

“And so I guess I tell him about your past ways.”

“Yuri, _no_.” Viktor gasps, but Yuri waves him off.

“Whatever. I was still kind of mad you forgot our promise, okay? And it’s not like your past playboy ways is a secret either. Everyone in the school knows and half of Japan’s population talks about it anyway.”

He pauses, shaking his head. “But that’s not the point. The point is, Yuuri talks to me about some dumb shit, and I’m just standing there, thinking you two idiots are _made_ for each other. Long story short, he feels bad, he decided to break it up with you, and now you two are _both_ suffering.” Yuri breaths out the words like air. He talks quickly, but Viktor can understand all of the incoherent jumble of words spewing out of an irritated Yuri’s mouth.

“He cares… He still cares about me…” Viktor gasps, an honest smile curling across his lips like a cat’s tail. Yuri eyes him strangely; he’s not used to Viktor’s smile being creepily honest, and in his opinion, it still looked as shitty as Viktor’s old fake ones.

“Yeah. So can you go talk to him now? He won’t shut up about you. ‘ _Oh, he has the prettiest blue eyes! I love his hair and how he plays with my hair! I regret breaking up with him, Yuri, what should I do?!’_ That’s all he’ll fucking talk about!” Yuri throws his hands up in a universal sign of “I give up”, but Viktor is too far gone to listen to him. His selective hearing didn’t hear past “I regret breaking up with him,” so Yuri is left with a creepy grinning Viktor and a larger regret than the one time he decided to eat a whole pint of ice cream as fast as he could.

“He likes my _hair!”_ Viktor squeals in delight. Yuri sighs. He rubs his temples and wonders why he couldn’t have attended a school with less of an Asian drama brewing up a storm.

“Yeah, and your face, and your body, and your _ass_.” Yuri wrinkles his nose in disgust at the last little bit, but Viktor is the complete opposite. Stars shine in his eyes and the red puffiness under them seem to fade with the blooming blush on his face.

“I have to go!” Viktor exclaims, jumping up in all his pajama glory.

“You should probably change first, Viktor.” Yuri stares pointedly at Viktor’s Hello Kitty pajama pants. Viktor bobs his head up and down, a fiery glint in his own that Yuri has never seen before. Viktor is ignited, a time bomb about to explode back into his former glory due to a certain raven haired man. Yuri sighs. He was two-three years younger than these assholes, yet _he_ was like some sort of mature peacemaker between the two. Disgusting.

“Oh, _spasibo_ , Yuri!” Viktor thanks, showing his gratitude with an all too enthusiastic smooch on Yuri’s face. Yuri wipes it away with the back of his hand, a perpetual scowl on his face. But his eyes are a little softer, and his frown a little less tense once Viktor separates from him with a determined gleam in his eye.

Something akin to fond pride swells in Yuri’s heart, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Instead, he watches as his friend speeds out of the house without a look back. Yuri follows, but at a much slower pace, as he clicks the door shut behind Viktor and locks it. Of course the older idiot wouldn’t remember to lock his door, _of course_.

He calmly strides back to Viktor’s room, where a nest of comfortable looking blankets and a promising heater warms up the chilly room and rids Yuri’s winter frost clinging onto the edges of his jacket. He settles back into Viktor’s previous position, curling up into the warmth like a spoiled kitten. With a sigh, he rests the back of his head on top of exhausted arms and opts to stare up at the ceiling.

An old memory, fresh like morning dew but nostalgic as the taste of borsche in his mouth, blooms into his tired mind. He’s eight years old, staring down at his dull white skating shoes and trying hard not to cry when the memory taints his brain, teases it. The kids around him ignore him, all of them cheerfully laughing and squealing in mirth as they tagged each other on slippery floors. They skate past him, not a single care in the world while poor Yuri awkwardly squats down, his blond hair hiding the anguish in his eyes.

Suddenly, a pair of larger skates, ones dotted with plastic silver jewels that looked real to Yuri, approach him, sliding gracefully on the ice. Yuri glances up, past his awkward hair cut and into a pair of warm, blue eyes. The person has long, silver hair that cascades down to their back in straight waves. They don’t look particularly female or male, and Yuri can only gape in awe at the other.

“Hello.” Their voice is smooth like caramel, wafting kindly into Yuri’s ears. “Why are you by yourself?” Yuri blinks. He barely comprehends the sentence before he drops his eyes back down on the ice.

“No one wants to play with me.” He admits, and holds back the urge to tear up. The other older person hums thoughtfully, a purr of their throat that comforts Yuri just a bit. Finally, the taller person extends their hand out, a warm gesture of companionship that has Yuri reeling.

Yuri doesn’t know what love is, let alone friendship. He’s always been by himself after his mother left. In his mother’s steed, his grandpa filled in the missing gaps of his family, but even his elderly caretaker could not patch the loneliness in Yuri’s heart. He yearned for a friend, someone his age who would play with him, skate with him, and genuinely enjoy his company.

“My name is Viktor. Would you like to skate with me?” Yuri stared at the hand in disbelief. He eyed it cautiously, like it was going to bite him, before gingerly taking it. The older person helped pull him up to his feet.

“I’m Yuri.” Yuri introduced himself clumsily. Viktor smiled, good-naturedly, before they set off in a backwards motion, leg pointed out behind him. He didn’t care for the other children, it seemed. They scrambled out of his way, toothy gapes and starry eyes in his direction as Viktor briefly let go of Yuri’s hand to perform a flawless quadruple toe loop jump. Yuri himself could only gaze at the beautiful performance with starry eyes.

“Whoa! How’d you do that?!” Yuri exclaimed, bouncing up to Viktor with admiration and pride. Viktor laughed, a bubbly, pretty thing that captured Yuri’s curiosity.

“I practice a lot.” Viktor explained before they held out their hand once more. This time, Yuri gladly took it, joy exuding from his form as they skated together.

At the end of the day, Yuri reluctantly left with his grandpa, but not without running up to Viktor who stood by himself, waiting for his own guardian to pick him up. Viktor’s sky blue eyes widened at the sight of tiny Yuri, but they softened as Yuri bounded up to them with a large embrace and a toothy grin.

“Skate with me next time!” Yuri demanded. He heard his grandpa shout something nasty at him for being so impolite, but he didn’t care. He stared expectantly up at a shell shocked Viktor, who wiped their face clean like a slate.

“Alright.” Viktor agreed amiably.

“Do you promise?!” Yuri stuck out his pinkie with a stubborn frown. Viktor laughed.

“I promise.” Their pinkie joined with Yuri’s was a sign of their budding friendship.

“Then, do you promise to skate with me forever?” Yuri knew he was pushing the limits of the pinkie promise, but he desperately wished to be this mysterious person’s friend. Anyone who skated that beautifully was amazing in Yuri’s book.

“Yes, Yuri.” Viktor smiled. “I promise.” Yuri beamed at his new friend before he left with his grandpa. He waved at the lonely looking person one last time before his grandpa tugged him away. On the way home, his grandfather berated him for his lack of manners in the presence of an older teen.

That day, Yuri swore to never forget the promise of his new friend, whose agreement to being his friend ultimately impacted his life.

Yuri snapped out of his reverie when his phone buzzed against his heated skin. He lazily dug out his cell phone from within his deep pocket and frowned at Viktor’s name popping up on his screen. A new text message from Viktor, he read, which was strange since Viktor rarely texted--he had more of an affinity towards Instagram and Snapchat after all.

 

**From: Viktor**

 

help!!! i cant find yuuri where is he??? >o<

 

Yuri snorted in disbelief. He shook his head, typed up a quick response to his idiot friend’s panicked text, and slumped down further into the bed. With the comfortable heat from the heater and the pile of blankets by him, Yuri easily fell into a deep slumber. The last thought on his mind before his drifted off was his younger self laughing while he skated next to his idol, Viktor.

 

**To: Viktor**

 

Skating rink, dumbass.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Viktor hurriedly sprinted past a gaggle of confused students, a frenzied gleam of his eye forcing him to appear more insane than he really is. He threw on an old cardigan his grandfather would wear, a pair of jaguar print leggings (a gag gift from Yuri, who glared at him enviously when he wore it), and a purple polka dot shirt. He can understand the curious eyes trained on him, but he doesn’t appreciate the tiny giggles that accompanies them.

By the time he’s searched every possible spot Yuuri could be, Viktor is famished and exhausted, the weight of the cold settling on his bones like icicles. Viktor ends up slumping down uselessly in a frozen bench, a hopeless downturn of his lips scrawled on his face. Fortunately, he remembered to bring his phone, so he ended up typing a quick text to Yuri with trembling fingers.

The answer couldn’t come soon enough. Viktor shot Yuri a quick text before jumping up to his feet and resuming his shaky pacing across the ankle deep snow. The particles of ice slithers wetly into his socks--that’s what he gets for slipping on the first pair of shoes he sees, which happened to be dark blue slip ons--and his ratty cardigan does not stop the chill of winter from seeping into his agitated system.

When the buzz of his phone alerts him of the returned text from his friend, Viktor is off like a rocket. He barely unlocks his phone with bony fingers, frigid as the dead and just as heat-less. Viktor scans through the two words with an ease he wished he had during his biology exam before he’s running off to the next location.

 _Of course,_  he yelps in glee to himself, heart pounding a million times faster. _It’s so Yuuri-like for him to be there…_ Viktor giggles softly to himself, already brushing past the few bewildered students with classes on the weekends and a few random passersby who litter the streets in gigantic winter coats.

As the green roof of the skating rink comes into view, Viktor suddenly screeches to a halt. He stares down at the unfashionable wreck he is with despair. His mind races faster than his heart, but Viktor has no clue whether or not to run back home, change, then come back to the rink. But at the same time, Yuuri might leave while he’s gone off to change. Or maybe some ruggedly handsome foreigner will captivate the raven haired man, who will turn to goo under hot touches and invigorating kisses.

No. Viktor can’t stand the thought of his one true love with another. So, with head positioned high and shoulders squared back, Viktor barges through the front doors. He’s a wild mess, he knows, judging by the wide eyed gape the receptionist sends him, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri._

He barely remembers the words spewing out of his mouth, or even if they are words, as he dashes through the locker room, a pair of worn down skates swinging in his grasp. Viktor rushes through the doors like a mob is after him, and slides into the room on yellow socks. He’s panting harshly, worn down by the frantic run here and the emotional exhaust his brain put him through.

It’s quiet. The room bears no sound; the wisp of a whistling wind rattles harmlessly on the glass windows, but no other noises fill the empty room. The white walls gleam brighter than the snow outside, blanketed by the eerie ghost sunlight drifting through the glass with hollow melodies. Viktor’s eyes widen, breath stolen from him by the man he so adored, and knees almost buckling from the black silhouette of Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri danced on the ice, tripping, but steadily calm, clumsy, yet elegant in the long sweeps of his arms and the trembling of his gloved fingers. His hands flourish out through the air, slicing through with thick power radiating off his arms. The skates provide a simple tune, a lilt of blades cutting through slabs of thick ice.

He’s absolutely breathtaking. Yuuri sparks something foreign in Viktor’s dead heart. Every swing of his arm, brandish of a toned leg, twinkle of his sad, sad eyes exhilarates the silver haired man. He’s frozen in shock, helpless to unmoving limbs petrified by Medusa’s stony glare found in the intricate twirls of Yuuri’s dance.

 _He’s thinking about me…_ Viktor gulps. There’s no other reason to explain the somber glint of murky brown eyes or the elegant dance of gentle limbs that exhibit an air of despondency. Even as clouds of gloom veil over Yuuri’s form, he’s still the light of Viktor’s life, the beauty and color he sees through rose tinted glasses.

“Viktor!” Yuuri suddenly stops, anchors his feet in the ground with a quick flail of his arms. Viktor is too spellbound to notice.

“Yuuri… I knew you would be here.” He breathes, but casually forgets to mention how Yuri helped him find the other Yuuri in the first place. The brown eyed male gasps, stepping unsurely away to distance himself from Viktor.

Viktor extends a kind arm, one of caution to not frighten the meek rabbit. As if remembering his shoeless feet, Viktor holds out a single finger with a pleading gaze. Yuuri waits patiently, but his eyes flit to the exit back and forth, back and forth as a cornered animal does when it’s spooked.

“Viktor, what…?” Yuuri slides back to accommodate Viktor’s larger build that immediately seeks out Yuuri’s smaller body. Viktor has become too attached to the other; he can not function properly without Yuuri’s smaller body entwined with his, and he can not feel an ounce of joy without basking in Yuuri’s moonlight.

“Yuri told me what happened.” Viktor summarizes, skating forward while Yuuri continues to detach himself from the other. Viktor frowns. He doesn’t comment on Yuuri’s obvious hesitant aloofness, but that doesn’t stop his heart from clenching into a tiny ball. He exhales, ridding himself of negative self-esteem in the process.

“Please, Yuuri…” He pleads with both hands geared towards a reluctant Yuuri. “Let me explain…” He’s directly in front of a trapped Yuuri now, who’s eyes widen at the touch of the dead wall on his back. Yuuri shudders, desperately attempting to avoid eye contact, but Viktor’s eyes are limpid tears, bluer than any shade of sky he’s ever gazed upon.

“NO!” Yuuri explodes, pushing away at Viktor. Viktor’s frown deepens. With a quick backtrack, Yuuri says, “I-I’m sorry. I just…. Please leave me alone, Viktor.” He’s the one humbly begging this time, a forlorn twitch of his down turned lips striking lightning bolts of pain into Viktor’s chest. Viktor stumbles back with scrunched up eyes; he willed himself not to cry, not to feel.

“Please, Yuuri!” He doesn’t go down easily without a fight. “Hear me out! The people before, they meant nothing to me! I admit I was an awful person in the past... I admit that what I did to them, and you especially, was wrong…” Viktor said in distress. He furrowed his eyebrows further. Yuuri didn’t budge.

“But, I can’t stop these feelings.” Yuuri gasped, a shrill, hopeful sound that painted Viktor’s bleak future a vivid myriad of rainbows. “I can’t stop myself from falling in love with you.” He reaches out gingerly, fingers brushing on Yuuri’s soft, soft skin. He’s a beam of moonlight that Viktor wishes to protect and love, tenderly cocooning Viktor in a sea of hope.

Yuuri does not back off this time. His back is facing Viktor’s, the midnight of his shirt projecting billowing shadows, a contrast to the sharp white of pointed walls. Yuuri gulps loudly enough for Viktor hear, and Viktor knows he’s within reach. His fingers carefully tread across dark waters until finally, finally, the taller man grasps onto Yuuri’s milky wrist.

“Anything. I’ll do anything to prove my love for you.” He solemnly swears, the sharp biting air of the winter filling his constricting lungs. His heart beats rigidly as Yuuri slowly turns to face him. Viktor sharply inhales.

Crystal tears fall from dark rain clouds as Yuuri suddenly surges forward, arms collapsing weakling against Viktor’s side, yet harshly digging into Viktor as if to confirm the Russian was not a figment of his overactive imagination. Yuuri sobbed, sure and bright, and nothing could pull at Viktor’s heart more than the cries of his beloved and the shuddering form of tiny, precious Yuuri.

“Shh… Oh, _luchik_.” Viktor murmured through iced lips. He smoothed the expanse of his bigger palm on top of Yuuri’s head, a melody already playing from his throat. The blue eyed man smiled softly, clutching Yuuri a little tighter to him so that the man could lay on his beating breast. Yuuri muffled his sniffles in Viktor’s horrid shirt, and the snow drifted down from the heavens like a blessing to their rekindling relationship.

Yuuri cried, Viktor teared up, and everything was right in the world.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~

 

Viktor explained his past life--of trifles and challenges and the bittersweet taste of victory as he sauntered away from yet another heartbroken conquest. He spoke of the curses laid on swollen tongues, and of the numerous waterdrops he’s seen that even outweighed the rain. Yet, sweet Yuuri didn’t protest, complain, or yell in fury. Yuuri stood, listening politely as they idly skated back and forth on the ice.

Even when Viktor’s tongue shrivelled up in his mouth and the desert stampeded on his tongue, Yuuri did not utter a single peep. It worried Viktor a bit; he didn’t know what the emotionless Yuuri felt: disgust or pity, anger or sorrow? Regardless, he pressed on, admitting to his faults and expressing his deep condolences to the people he harmed, especially Yuuri.

“Thank you for telling me everything,” Yuuri began with an unsure voice, “but that’s not why I was upset.” Viktor paused in the middle of proclaiming his love for Yuuri (again) at the other man’s “confession”. The silver haired man pursed his lips thoughtfully before nodding to Yuuri for him to continue. Yuuri gulped, eyes shifty as a strawberry red hue claimed his cheeks with a fiery vengeance.

“Uh, truthfully…” Yuuri shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, as if to kick out leg spasms in each. He gulped, a guilty expression of his reddening face that only served to intrigue Viktor further. Viktor motioned for him to continue with an almost impatient fervency.

“Go on, _luchik_.” He encouraged tersely. His hand hovered over the span of Yuuri’s back that seemed to discharge a gloomy aura encompassing his entire body. The raven haired man pouted, an all too tempting treat for Viktor, but he held out due to his morbid curiosity.

“I-It’s embarrassing… But I have to tell you; it’s only fair.” His last statement raised more questions in Viktor’s piqued mind. He wondered what Yuuri wanted to say and why the other man was having such trouble with the statement.

 _Perhaps Yuuri did something horribly embarrassing? He looks guilty, so maybe it has something to do with me…_ Viktor’s heart sped up at the thought. He examined his boyfriend (they were technically back together, right?) critically, skimming over the pretty details and focusing on the twitch of Yuuri’s fingers, the tremble of his mashed lips, and the flitting of his eyes from yonder to yonder.

“Okay.” Yuuri sighed deeply, slumping his shoulders in defeat. “Viktor!” He yelped, suddenly facing Viktor with a determined glint in his chocolate eyes. Viktor blinked.

“Yes?”

“I’m very sorry!” The shorter man loudly apologized before he bent down at a perfect ninety degree angle. His hair swished quickly past the bridge of his nose as his stiff shoulders rose up as a stiff structure. Viktor blinked once more, trying in vain to process Yuuri’s obvious guilt and distress.

“Put your head up, Yuuri. What happened?” Viktor asked gently. He ushered Yuuri to stand up straight with tender hands and gazed at Yuuri’s flickering eyes. They darted left and right with the speed of a hunting cheetah before finally resting on the ground.

“The truth is….” He said, gulping heavily. “The truth is… I have a bunch of pictures of you.” He uttered the whole sentence in one breath. Viktor stared passively at Yuuri. He honestly had no idea what the other man just said.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but what did you say?”

Yuuri sucked in a harsh breath before bellowing: “I TOOK PICTURES OF YOU WITHOUT YOUR CONSENT AND I’M REALLY SORRY!” _Oh my god._

“Yuuri--”

“Aren’t you mad? I took pictures of you without your permission and I told Yuri this, but he just sighed really deeply and walked away! I’m so disgusting; I’m sorry for being such a stalker! I know you can’t forgive me, but--”

“I forgive you.”

“--I, wait _what?_ ” Yuuri stumbled on his words. He blinked in disbelief, murky eyes a confused mess that swirled with a thousand emotions. Viktor watched, partly entertained-partly worried with how upset Yuuri looked. Viktor smiled.

“I forgive you.” He repeated slowly. Yuuri skittered back on panicked heels, the resulting screech of his skates on ice another contributor to the awkward silence around them. Viktor continued smiling pleasantly while Yuuri’s face morphed into ten thousand different expressions. He was like a broken stoplight, blinking green, red, yellow at rapid paces that both alarmed Viktor and impressed him.

“Wha--wait, I don’t think--W-Wha-- _How_ …?” Yuuri sputtered. Viktor acknowledged the other’s words with a husky hum. His heart calmed down--there was something about experiencing another person’s freak out that calmed one’s own inner turmoil down. Perhaps Viktor just wanted for them to quickly make up. Or maybe he was tired of the both of them chasing each other in circles.

Either way, Viktor just grinned widely, molded the palm of his hand on the porcelain cup of Yuuri’s alabaster cheeks sprinkled with a light dusting of pink fairy dust. Viktor admired Yuuri’s quiet curves of his visage, his eyes drawn down to the stiff posture of the raven haired man. The blue eyed skater’s smile turned sweet, like spun cotton candy or a finely aged glass of myod.

“You aren’t mad?” Yuuri wore himself out eventually, so his voice came out soft, unsure. Viktor shook his head, the same pearly white grin taped to his face like a yellow smiley face sticker.

“No, I’m not mad.”

“But, _why_?” Yuuri stressed. He searched Viktor’s eyes frantically, as if to find hidden fury and hatred in ice cold eyes. Viktor chuckled, stroking his fingers down the smooth sweep of Yuuri’s supple skin. His fingers dipped down like paint brushes in the white canvas of Yuuri’s skin, fleeting, tainting, mingling.

Yuuri’s breath shuddered out, a groan of his shoulders and a loll of his head accompanying it. Viktor pressed nearer, a rolling purr of satisfaction rising from the motorboat of his heart. His lips brushed against Yuuri’s cheeks, forgiving, yet careful in its path down reddening cheekbones.

“I’m no saint either, Yuuri.” Viktor whispered, foggy breath fluttering on the other’s lips. “I am technically a stalker too.” It was reassuring, but a guilty reassuring that they both reveled in. His head was most likely reeling, Viktor mused. He grinned at the shy blink from the shorter man, whose eyes remained vibrant black moonstones.

“Oh.” Yuuri murmured, a sigh already emerging from his lips as the sun approaching day over the line of horizon.

“I guess that makes us both stalkers.” Viktor fondly joked. Yuuri’s answering smile, strained, relieved, and happy all at the same time, stroked the butterflies in Viktor’s stomach until they dove straight out of his gut, inclining up, up, up into Viktor’s throat.

“Yes.” Yuuri laughed, “I guess that does.” And when he blinked up at Viktor, a crookedly handsome smile and oak eyes gazing up at the Russian man, Viktor’s heart sang a little more, soared a little higher.

A stray fern or ivy leaves sprouted from Viktor’s heart, cradling his soul softly in the warmth of Yuuri’s love. He couldn’t stop the cheek stretching grin nor the inevitable fall into a deep, dark rabbit hole. His heart pumped veins, air filled his lungs, and everything was so normal, so _right_ to Viktor when he offered himself to Yuuri.

Viktor couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t explain the forest of Yuuri’s dark eyes or the beach waves lapping on the sands of time. All he knew was that Yuuri planted something in him, something green and hopeful and absolutely breathtaking.

All Viktor knew was that he loved Yuuri, Yuuri loved him back, and the world wasn’t as bleak, colorless, or dreadful anymore. With Yuuri, Viktor could feel vivacious, could be teeming with millions of flitting emotions he’s never previously felt before.

And like the ocean meeting the sky--and everything in between--, Viktor flowed forward, a fluidity of his body like ravelling ribbons of rivers and laces of wispy clouds that compelled him to sweetly kiss Yuuri. He was not disappointed when Yuuri’s lips shaped into his, when the air around him fizzled with renewed energy.

 _I wouldn’t mind it,_ Viktor’s brain whispered to him as he embraced Yuuri, _I wouldn’t mind succumbing to death for him_.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It’s a little funny and ironic, the way things turn out in the end. Yuri rolls his eyes every time he encounters the “idiot couple”--as he’s dubbed them as--but his face is a lot less harsher, less lines strained on his forehead and in between the slope of his nose. Yuko--Yuuri’s best friend as Viktor later discovered--beams at the two of them, a string of pearly “congratulations” matching her joyful, toothy smiled composition. Her boyfriend grunts out his own awkward congratulations, but his eyes grow soft like chocolate cake when he sees how joyful Yuuri is.

Viktor meets a few more of Yuuri’s friends, and even brings Yuuri over to Russia over spring break. It’s a breath of fresh air, an enticing adventure that stirs up their hibernating bodies and mixes Viktor’s two favorite things into a giant ball of love.

Everyday is a new day. And Yuuri and Viktor fight more than expected, but they always end up patching up their worn, battered selves with yearning touches and comforting words. The world is peaceful and forgiving to their past mistakes, as they sift through the different seasons that define them.

Currently, they sit side by side, shoulders and knees touching like they’re tiny teenagers fighting the world all over again. Yuuri is as passionate and sparkling as the day Viktor first set eyes on him, and it’s a day and choice he will never forget/regret.

The waves lap serenely over their sandy toes, feet pressed into the warm sand as their adopted poodle “child”, Makkachin, sprints back and forth along the edge of the waters. Seagulls fly overhead, cawing like music to Viktor’s ears. He misses the beach, misses his old hometown that rings like bells in distant memories. He smiles anyway though, knows he’ll willingly give up the comfort of his hometown for Yuuri (and vice versa), as they watch the setting sun.

“It’s beautiful.” Yuuri sighs, a romantic little breath of air that wafts out into the salty tang of ocean, and fades away into dust. Viktor nods in agreement, and lightly presses the side of his head against Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri’s smile broadens like the horizon, pretty as the sunset’s vivid rainbow of darkening colors and just as breathtaking.

“Not as beautiful as you.” Viktor cooes. He’s not flattering at all, yet Yuuri laughs like he is. The bell chimes of his voice soothes Viktor’s soul, licks and ebbs away at the small lingering frost of winter. It’s nowhere near summer yet, but Viktor always did enjoy the cool of springtime.

“No, if anything, you’re more beautiful, Viktor.” Yuuri muses aloud. Viktor smiles before words rise up from his throat, a challenge present on his lips. They banter like that for a while, even when the sun lazily floats down the span of the ocean and the moon floats up in its haloing moonlight, Yuuri and Viktor do not budge.

Nothing else matters to them during their alone times. Not the worries of life, the stresses of finances, the anxiety behind a bleak future. They have each other, and that’s more than enough compensation for whatever life decides to hurl at them.

Viktor’s heart sings. A year ago, he would have been stuck in the same predicament: having casual flings, being bored, etc. He wouldn’t have learned how to love and live like Yuuri taught him. He wouldn’t be sitting there in that moment, sitting side by side to the love of his life.

The night sky drapes over Yuuri’s shoulder as a cold shawl, wrapping the other in exquisite moonlight speckled with tiny, embroidered stars. Viktor’s hot breath washes sweetly over the raven haired man’s face, and Yuuri swerves his head over to the left to stare at Viktor with kind, compassionate eyes.

Suddenly, Viktor is reminded of his fleeting conversation with his Russian friend Yuri (who they eventually called Yurio to not confuse the two), back when he thought love was only a complex game and Yuuri as his next challenge. He thinks of Koschei, with the old legendary creature he’s idly read about once when he was bored in high school. The silver haired male didn’t have much of an affinity to Russian mythology in general, but that one tale always stuck to him like gum in his hair.

“ _To kill the immortal, you have to rid of his soul. It’s tied to a needle, which is in an egg, buried in a duck, swallowed up by a hare, hidden in an iron chest of crystal or gold, deep under a green oak tree, on the island of Buyan_.” He faintly states in Russian. Yuuri casts him a puzzled glance, but Viktor digs his head further into Yuuri’s shoulder when he shakes his head.

“I was just thinking of something,” he explains.

“You were speaking in Russian.” Yuuri notes, subconsciously playing with their entwined fingers. Viktor nods, sighing in what Yuuri insists is a hauntingly entrancing manner, before Viktor chuckles fondly. He stares down at their joined fingers, then out towards the span of the black swells of ocean manipulated by the shiny, round full moon.

He swears he sees a tiny dot of an island, far off in the distance that no one but him could see. It bobs up and down like a plastic orange buoy, but with a more refined grace like a sensual dancer’s shifting hips. The dot taunts him, teases him. Then, it vanishes into the shrouding of thin mist blanketed across the beach.

Yuuri lightly nudges him off first, a sure indication of their depart from the scenic view. Viktor grins anyway; with a grand gesture of his swept out arms, he emerges up from his warm spot on the dusty sand. Yuuri follows after him, huffing out laughter like cigarette smoke from thin lips. Viktor allows Yuuri to use him like a tool, to climb up to his full height with braced arms and a oxymoron of clumsy gracefulness steadied on his legs.

Makkachin barks at the couple. The mocha poodle pants happily at his two parents, who share a knowing grin with each other. Makkachin clambers after them with wet paws dotting the sand. The moonlight paves a path of light for the two, and all is silent other than the calming waves licking at the shore.

Viktor and Yuuri walk hand in hand, hearts pulsing from one end of the arm into the other--they’re joined together in harmony, the heart beats from each other a beautiful melody that meshes well with the ocean. Viktor is left speechless, being tugged forward by Yuuri. A heavy weight of love settles comfortably in his chest. He knows it will never leave.

Yuuri smiles, a ghost of a grin peeled back on chapped lips. Viktor desires to kiss his lover, to dip him down like on their second date, and share a sweet tangle of their tongues. Instead, he resists the urge, knowing Yuuri will push him away from the public display of affection (despite the beach being long abandoned).

It’s chilly, but bearable, feverish, yet comforting. Their feet stamp footprints deep into the mounds of sinking sand as Viktor and Yuuri continue onto the path of their future. Makkachin lingers behind, but he’s never too far from them.

A wisp of a fond smile dances on Viktor’s lips until it spreads to his overjoyed soul. He knows how deep he’s fallen in the abyss of cascading emotions like a waterfall cleansing his soul. The silver haired man is painfully aware of how he’s tumbled past life, past death, past the in between splitting space and time. He smiles in acceptance as Yuuri arches his neck to stare at Viktor with nothing short of adoration in his sparkling galaxy eyes.

“Let’s go home.” Yuuri speaks, the words resounding in Viktor’s light body.

“Yes,” he breathes--breathes in Yuuri’s existence like much needed air.

“Let’s go home.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> read the clues, read the clues


End file.
